Puzzled by Potions
by gohokies
Summary: Hermione is faced by a difficult enigma involving a potion she wants to brew in secret. When seeking out a place to detangle her thoughts, who does she run into? Can this potion savvy wizard be the answer to her problems? 7th year, not HBP compliant.
1. Seeking Sanctuary

Seeking Sanctuary

Hermione marched purposefully down the familiar halls, her inner auto-pilot guiding her toward her destination. Her brain was mentally scanning the pages of her well worn copy of _Advanced Potionmaking_ while also avoiding trick steps and steering her through her most favourite shortcuts and hidden passageways.

_Peppermint extract, no, that's useless, the drinker will have hallucinations..._

Hop one step, make a left.

_Sugar, definitely not, it would ferment so rapidly that the drinker would immediately become incredibly intoxicated. Not good in life or death situations, you would definitely not want your judgment to become impaired..._

Wait for the moving staircase.

_Honey? No, best not to risk any sugar at all. How can you make a potion like that less vile to drink, there must be some additive..._

Two rights after the suit of armor bearing a black and gold shield, being careful to keep out of reach of his sword. She knew that particular one enjoyed lifting up the older girls skirts when they weren't looking. The pervert.

_How do you make something sweet without sugar? It's a riddle and damned if I can come up with a suitable solution!_

Behind the tapestry that looked as if some inept first-year had attempted a cleaning charm and had accidentally rearranged the fabric. Now it looked like a tie-dyed sheep had coughed up a hairball and flattened it on the wall claiming it to be art.

_Maybe Dobby down in the kitchens could recommend something to me. Although I hate to make the poor creature work harder than necessary, despite his eagerness to please._

Out the back of a portrait of Rufus the Randy (who shouted a catcall to Hermione as she exited). Down the hall to the right.

_It would be ludicrous to ask anything of Snape, he'd probably die laughing at the gall of me requesting his help with anything, even if it would help him in turn. That's a thought, Snape dying. I wonder what his tombstone would say: _

_**Here Lies**_

_**Severus Snape**_

"_**Good riddance to all you dunderheads!"**_

Hermione giggled aloud at the thought. Finally she had arrived. Now she had to refocus on what she would need for her studies. Cauldrons, many of them. A full stock of ingredients, one to rival Snape's private storeroom. And books! She would need all books available about potions and potion ingredients. She steadied her mind and began to pace.

_I need a place to work on potions. I need books about potions. I need potions equipment and supplies, lots of supplies. I need a calming environment._ She kept pacing. She added quietly and whispered aloud, almost as an afterthought, "I need help..." _Where did that come from?_ she thought as the door to the Room of Requirement began to materialize on the formerly blank stretch of wall. She considered her last request of the room and while it was vague and probably ignored by whatever charm that listened to the various requirements of the residents of the castle, she decided that she probably could use help of some kind, since she was stumped. She didn't expect the kind of help the room provided...

* * *

Hermione heaved open the heavy door and hurried into the room before someone would see her and nose into her business. As she turned around, she met the inquisitive eyes of another student, his hair falling forward over his face that was partially tilted toward the cauldron beneath him. Obviously she had caught him in the middle of his own potionmaking and instantly felt embarrassed by her intrusion into his private work. It was clear that he had come here to work in solitude, and was not expecting any interruption, for he had taken his school robes and tie off and had undone a few buttons on his shirt and rolled up the sleeves, most likely due to the heat that his potion created in the room. She was reminded of the time her mother had treated her to a day at the spa for her 17th birthday and they had walked into a sauna. The heat was palpable. It invaded all five of her senses until she felt she could taste the humidity. She felt the beads of sweat prickling on her forehead and fought the urge to fan herself with her hand. Now was not the time for such a gesture, because the gaze he had locked her eyes into was almost frightening and she could feel him scrutinizing her. What she could read in the look he was giving her were vast amounts of curiosity, mingled with a bit of surprise and a hint of appraising, as if he were deciding how he should approach his new found situation. She stood up straight, making herself taller, which then drew his gaze away from her eyes and to her form. She could imagine how her hair looked in the heat of the room, mostly frizzy, and her uniform was wrinkled because she had hastily picked it up from the floor and thrown it on that morning. As his eyes lingered on her worn loafers, she felt her face grow hotter, if it were even possible in that room. Hermione did not bother wearing fancy stilettos or strappy sandals like the other girls her age did to show off their legs. She had always been of the opinion that no one paid attention to your feet anyway, so why bother squashing them into shoes that only gave you blisters and callouses? Now her feet were receiving a look of unbidden condescension and she wished she had worn something a little less revolting than her disgusting stained penny loafers. 

"May I help you, Granger?" Those eyes were locked on hers again. She searched for words, begged her brain and her mouth to cooperate.

"Uhhh..." _Dammit, stupid stupid! Say something, don't just mumble like bloody Frankenstein! Although with that hair you probably look more like the Bride of Frankenstein. Uuughh!_

"I'm sorry, I just gave away the last 'uhhh.' Would you settle for a 'What?' instead?"

"Uhhh..." _Wow, who would have thought you were top in your class Hermione. Merlin! Get it together!_

"Enough pleasantries, Granger. Do you think you can string together enough words and make a sentence to explain how and why you have disturbed me?"

_Snap out of it! _"Actually, I didn't mean to barge in on you, I was just trying to use the room to brew a few potions of my own. I didn't know you would be here." _There, two sentences!_

"Obviously, otherwise you wouldn't be gaping at me like I had grown three noses. I haven't, have I? You never know with these potions." He gave her a smirk as if daring her to tell him his face wasn't perfect in every sense of the word.

"Well I'll just work over there if you don't mind." She gestured to the opposite side of the room. "And I'll put a cooling charm on the room since it's so hot in here." She took out her wand from her belt and raised it into the air to cast her charm.

"DON'T!" His eyes were wide in panic, his hand outstretched as if trying to reach and stop her. She gave him a questioning look and his expression suddenly changed from panicked to peeved. "What are you, stupid? Or just ignorant?"

The words stung her. Of course she wasn't stupid! She wanted to shout at him, defend herself from his insults. Instead she began, "Well actually, you should know I am-"

"Yeah, the top of our class." he cut her off. "That just goes to show you how worthless classes here are. When the top student doesn't have the common sense to know that obviously I could cast a cooling charm if I wanted to. And obviously I didn't. And as you can plainly see I am brewing a potion in this heat. And someone with any real intelligence would put two and two together and realize that this heat I am suffering through in here is for the benefit of said potion. And as you have probably already memorized from a book," at this he snorted, "the potion Ferrediamus has a higher than normal freezing point. And if you let this particular potion cool at any time during the process, it will become a paste prematurely. Once you reheat the premature paste to boiling point and attempt to complete the potion, the version of Ferrediamus you make will be-"

"Considerably weaker and of lower quality." Hermione finished lamely.

"Instead of making something harder than diamonds, it would be as soft as margarine. So I ask you again, are you an idiot?" Hermione stared at him, wand still half raised in uncertainty. She shook her head and her frizzy coif bounced along either side of her face. "Then put your damn wand back in your belt before you do something stupid, you fool!"

At this Hermione bristled. _How the hell was I supposed to know all that! And who is he to just take over this room as if he owns it! I have just as much right to the room as he does, I mean it's the freakin' Room of Requirement, and I bloody well require it so he can shove the giant squid up his rear end!_ "Who do you think you are? You order me around as if you own the whole damn school when I have just as much right to be here as anyone! And it's not my fault if I didn't know what potion you were brewing or why it was so hot in here, I mean anyone could have made that mistake!"

"But you're not just anyone are you?" His tone of voice held neither sarcasm nor ridicule. Only observation. "You pride yourself on not being an average student here. So act like it and take responsibility for your actions." He looked up at her, expecting a response. But what could she say?

"I'm sorry." There, she had humbled herself. To him of all people. He who needed no help at all humbling her every damn day. "Would you mind if I worked on a potion at the other end of the room?"

"Go right ahead, you won't bother me, Granger."

"I'll just get my supplies and be out of your hair, Malfoy."


	2. Helping Hand

Helping Hand

Hermione used her hand to waft the fumes of her potion toward her nostrils. Its bitter and pungent smell made her crinkle her nose in disgust. _Another failed attempt! _She felt she was never going to be able to disguise this potion's distinctive odor and flavor. She made a face and floated her cauldron to the sink to start cleaning with the other three failures. She used the back of her arm to wipe the sweat and strands of frizz from her brow. She looked up and once more she found his eyes on her. His unabashed stare made her uncomfortable and she shifted from one foot to the other.

"Who is it for?" Hermione cocked an eyebrow, puzzled by his question. She mentally sized him up, trying to decide what to tell him. The truth? Not likely. "I'm only wondering because maybe you should consider the drinker's personality and preferences when attempting to mask the taste of Willoward Elixir." He had been watching her! Studying what ingredients she used and spying on her futile attempts.

"Well I'm trying to give it to someone without their knowledge. But I can't seem to find an additive that is strong enough and doesn't affect the performance of the potion." Hermione didn't know why she was telling him these things, maybe it was because she had almost ruined his hard work and felt guilty, maybe she was just that desperate. But then maybe it had something to do with his eyes. They looked different somehow than she was used to. She stared at him a bit more closely. He wasn't glaring or mocking her which made him squint less. It opened up his whole eye area and made his gray orbs seem enlarged on his face. It was a bit disorienting to see him in that light, the intense look upon his face, and the smoky white fumes of Ferrediamus rising and curling before him, barely caressing his high cheekbones.

"Without their knowledge? How very... sneaky of you. I think your little friends Potter and Weasley should know what they're walking into before you try to trick them into taking a potion like that." Hermione snapped out of her musings.

"It's not for them. They would take anything I gave to them and ask questions later, no matter what it tastes like." Hermione blurted out before she could stop herself. Realizing her mistake she quickly amended, "Not that they're stupid or gullible, we just trust each other."

"Would you blindly drink a potion Weasley had brewed?" Malfoy's mouth was quirked in amusement.

"Well I guess what I meant to say is that they not only trust my intentions, but also my magical ability in potionmaking as well."

"I see. Well if not for those two, then who are placing a great deal of time and energy into deceiving?"

"It's not deception if I am doing it for their benefit. I have no ill-intentions."

"So you say. But what you haven't said is the name of your victim. This in itself implies that you are hiding something. And hiding things is often a symptom of deceitfulness. Ask any Slytherin." At this his eyes sparkled with laughter. Of course he would never laugh out loud, but his eyes let Hermione know that if he were the sort of person who chuckled, he would be at that moment.

"Well I would tell you, but you know how rumors get around in this school. And everyone knows what a gossip you are, Draco Malfoy. Ask any Gryffindor." She smiled at him, a saccharine sweet upturn of her lips, referring to the numerous times he had spread slanderous comments about Harry and even the occasional girl he had slept with.

"I was only inquiring because I saw you struggling and thought you might need some assistance. I was mistaken." He turned his face down and resumed his reading while he waited for another batch of Ferrediamus to cure.

"You have a solution?" She asked surprised, mostly at his offer of help, but also at his abilities in Potions. She had no idea he knew as much as he did. She had always assumed Snape played favorites.

"Maybe, but first you have to answer me a question about your mystery beneficiary."

"Maybe I will answer, but it depends on the nature of your question," was her coy reply.

"Well that makes me all the more intrigued." He quirked an eyebrow at her as he slowly walked toward her table to study her work.

"I am assuming that your intended target is not slow minded, otherwise you would not be going to such great lengths."

"Is that a question?"

"No. My question is: Does your target often ingest sweets or candies? Anything sugary at all?"

"No, actually sugar is not often in their diet."

"Then stop trying to make your potion taste sweet, for that would only raise suspicion. May I suggest something?"

"Please! I don't know what else to try."

"Caviar."

"Caviar?"

"Only the finest. It will throughly dissolve and leave no physical traces. And the only taste left would be a bit of a fishy flavor that could easily be masked by mixing the potion with a sauce and serving it over a piece of fish."

"Holy mackerel!"

"I'm sure mackerel would work but I prefer Alaskan cod."

"Whatever, it doesn't matter! You have _no _idea how much you have helped me just now! I can't believe it! I'm completely flabbergasted! How in the world did you ever think to try that?"

"You forget where and how I spend my holidays, Granger. When you wine and dine with the Malfoys for special occasions, caviar is never far off. It was a matter of time before I began experimenting with it in my own concoctions. My favorite is using it in Gulliptis Gellam and then slipping it into my father's shrimp cocktail sauce when the house elves aren't looking. He never opposes my opinions or suggestions for the rest of the night after taking my gullibility potion." Malfoy gave her a sly wink and a smirk.

"I'd give all the books I own just to see one night of Lucius Malfoy subdued and weak minded."

"Well I haven't done anything like that in a year and a half since Father went to Azkaban." Hermione had no words to say to that so she turned her attention back to grating her ginger.

* * *

Hermione knew that Draco had been going through a painful change in his life over the course of sixth year. He had estranged himself from everyone once considered close to him. He would disappear for what seemed like days where no one would see him at meals or hanging out with his friends. Harry had thought it especially incriminating, thinking it proof that he was aligned with the Dark Lord and spending all his time doing his bidding. Ron, when he was not of the same opinion as Harry, for one reason or another, would claim Malfoy was so busy getting laid that it was no wonder people never saw him. There were certain girls in Hogwarts of loose morals that were attracted to the handsome, brooding type of male. They liked to fancy themselves the only women who could "connect" with Malfoy. As if they understood anything about him. 

Hermione had believed neither Harry nor Ron when it came to what Draco Malfoy was doing with his time. She hadn't particularly cared, once she decided for herself that Malfoy wasn't involved with the Dark Arts. Looking back on it now, she realized he must have been holed up in the Room of Requirement, probably working on potions. He seemed to have quite the affinity for the subject. She herself would probably have found it just as enjoyable as Arithmancy or Ancient Runes if Snape had shown her the same partiality he had Malfoy. She had done some independent study on Chemistry during her last summer holiday at Grimmauld Place and found the subject fascinating. Potions seemed like the natural magical equivalent, how mixing different elements and compounds can create something unique and distinctive. Perhaps she should do as Malfoy had and study Potions on her own, gain an unbiased opinion on the subject. She would consider the matter further.

In any case, Malfoy's year of secrecy had changed him somehow. He still teased her and her friends, but the malice was gone, vanished. The insults had toned down and were almost playful. Harry and Ron only noticed that Malfoy held his tongue more often and attributed it to two things. Firstly, the fact that his father was still in Azkaban had shamed him. He couldn't act like he had any special status in Hogwarts because his father could no longer blackmail the school's governors. Secondly, because Hermione and Malfoy lived in such close quarters, being Head Boy and Girl, Harry and Ron assumed they had made some sort of truce to make the year more bearable. Truth be told, there was no need to. He had been courteous to her from day one, so she had followed suit. He had turned out to be a polite roommate and he hadn't brought a girl back to his room all year, as far as Hermione knew. Of course it was only early November and she didn't make it a habit to wander into Draco Malfoy's room and check for young girls under his covers. But if she were to be honest with herself, had Hermione never interacted with Malfoy until seventh year she thought it quite possible they would have become friends. As it were, she was content with their polite acknowledgment of one another. At least she _had_ been content until she stumbled into the dragon's lair.

* * *

The solution Malfoy had provided her with was not without its faults. How was she to obtain caviar of that fine a quality? It was sure to be very expensive and she doubted she would find _any_ caviar at all down in the kitchens. Nor in Hogsmeade. Maybe since Malfoy had suggested the caviar, and mentioned using it in potions himself, he might have a small supply in his room, or access to some. She resolved to ask him. 

"Malfoy?" she ventured.

"Hmm?" He looked up from his book.

"You wouldn't happen to have some of that caviar you mentioned, would you?"

"Not on me, no." Her face fell. "But I can get you some in a few days."

"Really? You'd do that for me?"

"On one condition."

"Well of course I'll pay you back for it."

"No, I don't want your money."

"Well what then?"

"You have to promise me..." he paused and looked her right in the eye, "You have to promise me you will never ever wear those shoes again." Hermione's face flushed red. She had almost forgotten the look on his face when he saw her shoes, but the memory came flooding back in full detail.

"I think that can be arranged." Caviar for a pair of nasty rotting shoes? She'd just have to transfigure a pair of her other shoes into a more flattering style.

"Now."

"What do you mean?" She furrowed her brows in confusion.

"Lets go burn your shoes. Now. I'm a bit hungry since we missed dinner. We'll go down to the kitchens and have some sandwiches while we watch them burn. Come on, it'll be fun." He winked at her and smirked.

She looked at him skeptically. "But what-"

"Come _on_, Granger! For once in your life, quit questioning everything and just go with it!" He grabbed her by the hand and pulled her out of the room. Shocked, Hermione let him lead her down the hall and toward the kitchens.


	3. Kitchen Conversations

A/N: Okay so this is the third chapter up and just a warning, it didn't quite write itself as I had planned, and then I got into politics in the middle, but I hope it doesn't bore you guys too much. The words just typed themselves for a while before I was able to rein them in and get back in the direction I had originally set off in.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and everything associated with his books is the property of J.K. Rowling. The stuff I own consists of the silly potion names and Hermione's shoes.

**Kitchen Conversations**

Draco tickled the pear and Hermione came to her senses when it started to giggle and turned into a handle. What had possessed her to come down to the kitchens with Malfoy of all people, she did not know. The idea itself was simply ludicrous, but in action she felt natural just sitting at the small table in the corner nursing her cup of tea. She absentmindedly stirred it with a spoon as she stared into the murky liquid. She pondered the days events. Her initial encounter with Malfoy had all the markings of their interactions during their first five years at Hogwarts. He had yelled, she had yelled, insults were thrown around. He hadn't called her Mudblood, but she didn't expect such childishness from the Head Boy. Neither did she expect the weight he had placed on her shoulders with his lecture on responsibility. He left her feeling guilty while she brewed, as if she were a naughty child and he had expected her to know better.

Hermione greatly disliked being caught off guard. She had difficulty mentally switching gears. Before each class she would quickly skim her organized notebook and familiarize herself with the subject at hand. By doing so she translated her brain from whatever activity she had been engaged in previously to her new topic of study. How else could she answer every single question posed to her in classes? If she did not prepare beforehand, it took her a full minute or two to focus and jump in the action. Her first year at Hogwarts had been immensely stressful because she had not found a way to deal with this flaw in her thinking at the time. When she had been confronted with a troll in the girls toilets she was frozen in horror, her brain still reeling from the newness of the situation. When Ron and Harry had been trapped in Devil's Snare, she was so panicked that she forgot she was a witch and could use her wand to light a fire. If it hadn't been for Harry and Ron's quick thinking in both situations, well, she could hardly stand to think of what might have happened. Going into the Room of Requirement that afternoon, she had been preparing herself for a rigorous study of potions. Malfoy's presence had not been planned for, and subsequently her brain was grasping at straws when it came to the subject of speaking with an intelligent human being. And then once she had successfully shifted into conversation, Malfoy had wanted her to think about potions!

She picked at the crust on her sandwich for a minute and then took a bite. She chewed slowed as she looked about her surroundings. The long House tables were set with the standard gold plated china that bore the Hogwarts crest. She herself was eating off of such a dish. Her index and middle fingers traced the slightly raised lettering on the edge of the plate. _**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**._ A small surge of school pride raced through her. _I am so lucky to be here. I am truly blessed to be allowed to study and learn in these great halls. There are those less fortunate, who cannot attend. Think of Hagrid. I don't know if I could stand to go back to the Muggle world now that I know I was destined to be here, to know about witches and wizards, and be one myself._

"You've been unnaturally quiet ever since we came down here," Malfoy remarked.

"Just pondering," was Hermione's vague answer.

"May I inquire as to what thoughts have you sitting there so silently?" He seemed the slightest bit interested in what she would say next.

"You would probably think them stupid thoughts." She didn't think he would be entertained by her musings.

"What I think is stupid is irrelevant. But I think a proper conversation is in order, as your introspection has me quite discomfited." He looked at her intently, letting her know that he was truly listening.

"Well I suppose I was just thinking about how lucky I am to be here. At Hogwarts. We all are fortunate."

"In what manner are we lucky? All magical children should get an education. It's their birthright."

"You wouldn't understand why I feel fortunate. You've been raised in privilege your entire life. I'm a Muggle-born. I had no knowledge that this whole..._world_," at this she made a wide gesture with her arms, "existed. I could have gone my entire life oblivious to the fact that I had magical powers and lived as a Muggle. I probably would have been perfectly happy, too. But _now_," she looked him directly in the eye, "now I know what I am and the powers I possess. And if I were forced to go back living as a Muggle, devoid of my magical ability, I doubt I could ever be as happy as I am right here in this castle."

"Why would you ever go back to living as a Muggle? Why would you choose that life?"

"It's not a matter of choice. I don't know how much you keep up with the happenings on either side of the war. But if Dumbledore fails, if Harry fails, if everyone who stands against the Dark Lord fails, what do you think will happen to the Muggle-borns who are left? The small children who are just beginning to discover what they can do. Do you think _he_ would teach them how to become full fledged witches and wizards? Do you think he would let a person like me retain my powers and get a job in his new regime? I would lose everything I ever loved." She sniffed ever so slightly as she voiced her deepest fear.

"You're right. It's difficult for me to empathize because I am not of the same kind as you. I can see your viewpoint, but I can't honestly say that I feel what you feel. Just as you cannot possibly understand how Purebloods feel when they discriminate against Muggle-borns."

"But I can't even fathom a reason for the hatred other than people like you feel you are better than us."

"It goes past that. Think, Granger. Think about your friend, Weasley. His father, he loves Muggles, doesn't he? But could he ever fit in with their society? Of course not, he doesn't understand Muggle customs, they are foreign to him. The words they use are difficult to pronounce, the way they go about their lives is completely strange to someone born and raised around magic. I'll be honest with you, Granger. I was shocked that you were a Muggle-born when I first learned your name and what you were. I knew you weren't a Pureblood, your surname gave it away. But I had assumed you were at least a Half-blood because you were so knowledgeable about magical society and customs. I would never have guessed what your background was had you not gone around blabbing to the whole school of your Muggle parents. I realize now that you learned it all from books. If all Muggle-borns had your dedication and perseverance to learn our ways on their own, I doubt any of us would care where you came from. Except for the Dark Lord, but that's an extreme case. The reason your type offend us so much is because you come into our world so naïve, and continue to think as Muggles, inadvertently disrespecting those of us who have been learning about magic and its history since our birth. Why do you think we have a class as dull as History of Magic in Hogwarts? To teach the Muggle-borns about things the rest of us have been told as small children. I can assure you they teach no such class in Durmstrang."

"Sometimes thinking like a Muggle can lead us to new solutions that are often better than the old ways. Purebloods often fall behind in the times because they fail to think as a modern witch or wizard, with mixed heritage, does. Why do you think they teach Muggle Studies in Hogwarts? Being well-rounded has its benefits." She had countered his point with one of her own.

"So it does. But we weren't talking about being well-rounded. We were talking about being ignorant of aspects of magic while simultaneously trying to be a part of it. Surely you concede the point that being ignorant of magical customs in the wizarding world is far greater a crime than being ignorant of Muggle customs in the same situation?"

"Yes, I see your point. But I still don't believe that Muggle-born children should be denied access as an equal citizen in society later in life."

"I learned long ago that the problem is not with the children, it is with the system. Muggle parents of magical children should be informed from the day their child is born of what is to come. Instead of keeping people of your heritage ignorant of all things magical until just before their eleventh birthday, the wizarding world needs to inform these infants of their abilities and equip them with the means to educate themselves about the general aspects of magic."

"Like a Muggle-born preschool?" Hermione's eyes grew wide with amazement at the idea that she was just beginning to wrap her brain around.

"If by preschool you mean some form of magical education before Hogwarts, then yes."

"How long ago did you come up with this idea?"

"Last year. I was so frustrated with this Hufflepuff in one of my classes asking a question about gnomes. If he had been properly informed as a child, he wouldn't have bothered the rest of us."

"Malfoy, I think that is an absolutely fantastic idea! Why no one else has thought of it I have no clue. But it makes so much sense! It could easily be expanded to include Purebloods, too. It would encourage the social interaction between Purebloods and Muggle-borns, eliminating some of that prejudice and hatred. And also take the strain off of a lot of parents who are busy as it is without having to teach their children until they go to Hogwarts. A preschool would give all magical children, no matter what their backgrounds, a level playing field!" Hermione grew more and more excited as she spoke, the plans forming in her mind as she went along.

"Wow, you can really take an idea and run with it, can't you, Granger?" Malfoy stared at her as she began to blush.

"Well it was such an excellent notion, I couldn't help myself."

They lapsed back into silence, each mulling over their thoughts and eating quietly. After about a quarter of an hour Malfoy polished off the last bit of his sandwich and rose to his feet.

"I suppose we should get on with it then." Hermione looked up at him and took his statement to mean he was ready to return to their rooms.

"Yes, I think I'm ready to leave as well." She also stood up and dusted invisible crumbs from her robes. Malfoy quirked an eyebrow.

"I never said anything about leaving," he said with a smirk on his face.

"Well then what _do_ you mean? Have you decided to stay and talk all the house elves into asking for wages and vacation days?" She smiled as she envisioned the house elves shrinking in terror as he tried to give them a few sickles.

"Merlin, no! I meant your shoes. I don't know how much longer I can look at them without regurgitating my meal."

"They are rather ratty aren't they?" She chanced a look down at the loafers. It was pretty gross.

"You're just now noticing?"

"And why can't we do this back in the comfort of our own common room?"

"Because I said so. I'm the one helping you out with the caviar, and I stated my terms. You accepted. Besides, this is much more fun here in the kitchens where we might get caught. I'm sure you know that it's against school rules to burn anything other than wood or parchment in the fires of Hogwarts. Something about it interfering with the school's inner Floo network. You haven't broken one rule since becoming Head Girl and it's high time you loosened up."

"But-"

"Shoes. Now, Granger." Malfoy held out his hand, waiting to receive the aforementioned articles. Hermione bent down to remove them. The stone floor was cold on her stockinged feet and she let loose a slight shiver.

"You take one and I'll do the other." He took her left shoe and held it delicately by his thumb and forefinger holding it as far away as possible and studying the stains. "Sweet Salazar, Granger! Are these toad intestines on your shoes?" He stared at her incredulously.

"Well they're my Potions shoes, Malfoy. I was helping Neville in class last year and he accidentally spilled some all down my front. Now I use them whenever I brew."

"That's what you get for not minding your own business."

"Funny, that's exactly what Snape said when it happened."

"Yeah, well... let's just toss them. On three. One... two... three!" Malfoy had flung the shoe by its small tassel into the flame where it promptly settled onto a large group of embers and began sizzling. Hermione had gently tossed hers and it followed its mate and started melting. The flames licked happily and the smell of leather cooking filled the room rapidly.

"Sick! Let's get out of here before someone smells them and comes to investigate," Malfoy said, his nose crinkled delicately. Hermione took one look at his expression and let out a laugh. He turned his head to get a better look at her with a puzzled expression on his face, not understanding her laughter, which only fueled her sudden fit of giggling more. Growing impatient, he grabbed her by the upper arm and pulled her toward the door. The sudden movement and renewed coldness on her feet sobered her from her merriment and they made a hasty exit from the kitchens.

* * *

As they began the long trek from the kitchens in the basement to their rooms in one of the towers, Hermione became more and more conscious of her feet which were now numb and painful from the cold floors. Malfoy had let go of her arm once he was sure she would walk on her own beside him. Now free, Hermione stopped, afraid to continue for the sake of her feet. She sat down on the cold floor, and began rubbing vigorously to make them warm up and regain sensation. Malfoy took notice when she no longer walked next to him and turned around to see where she had gotten to. He came up and knelt in front of where she was sitting and took his wand out from inside his robes. He muttered a quick warming charm on each of her feet. 

"Thank you," she whispered quietly. The hallway was dimly lit by torchlight and Hermione heard no signs of life close by.

"You're welcome. Can you walk?" he asked softly. His voice was smooth and low. She nodded the affirmative and he stood up and offered his hands to help her up. As soon as Hermione put the full weight of her body on her sore feet, she felt a sharp pain and grimaced. He noticed her facial expression but said nothing. She took a tentative step and groaned aloud. Without a word, Malfoy bent over and lifted her off the ground and over his shoulder, caveman style. Hermione would have let out a squeal of surprised fear had her stomach not jumped into her throat, stifling the sound. She was most uncomfortable, her face was practically pressed into the small of his back and her arms dangled limply because she had no idea what to do with them. Her bum was in the air, her hips resting on his shoulder, and had her robes not been so long, she was sure anyone passing would have an unobstructed view of her knickers under her school skirt. _How inappropriate!_ she thought. She tried to squirm to get him to let her down, but the arm he had wrapped around the tops of her thighs tightened, just below the curve of her bum. _Inappropriate indeed!_

"Granger, stop wiggling, you're making it difficult for me to carry you. Just let me haul you to our common room so you don't have to walk on those feet of yours." Her struggling instantly ceased and she let herself be carried down the hall.

"I _can_ walk. It just hurts a little."

"Yeah well this is faster. I'm not going to make that long walk back with you groaning and whining like Moaning Myrtle the whole way. You're not heavy or anything, so quit worrying. I'm doing myself a favor here." She rolled her eyes at his back. They continued in silence the rest of the journey until Malfoy stopped in front of their portrait. Hermione's view was obstructed by Malfoy's body, but she knew the quidditch player soaring around the frame was waiting for the password.

"Giant Squid," stated Malfoy clearly. The quidditch player stopped midair and scrutinized Malfoy.

"You know I hate that beast in the lake. He gives me the heebee jeebees. I have half a mind to change the password and not tell you. And where would you be then? Locked out in the hall, that's where!" Malfoy ignored the ravings of the flier as the portrait swung open. He stepped carefully inside and set Hermione on her feet. He steadied her unsure balance with his hands on her hips. She had her own palms resting on his shoulders and when she regained her footing she let go and allowed her arms fall to their sides. His hands lingered for a brief moment and their gazes met. And just as quickly they broke apart, bodies and eyes. He walked past her and to the door leading to his room. She began to do the same. Just as her hand touched the doorknob, he called out to her.

"Granger." Just the one word. She turned to look at him, her eyes questioning. "I'll try to get that caviar as soon as possible." She nodded curtly, and they both entered their respective rooms, the doors quietly closed behind them.


	4. Pests and Presents

A/N: Again I've sidetracked a bit with women's lib, since Hermione seems to be the perfect advocate for equal rights to any oppressed group- elves, Muggle-borns, women.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and everything associated with his books is the property of J.K. Rowling. The stuff I own consists of the silly potion names and Hermione's shoes.

**Pests and Presents**

Hermione awoke to the sound of her wand vibrating violently on her nightstand. She covered her face with her pillow, wishing she could drift back into her dream. However, her wand had other plans for her morning and began to whistle, softly at first, then more and more shrilly until Hermione finally grabbed it off the ledge and gave it a swish and feeble horizontal flick to turn off the alarm. She slowly adjusted her eyes to wakefulness and rubbed the sleep out of them. She slid off the edge of the bed and forced her feet into her house shoes. Her night robe was hanging on the coat rack a few feet away and she shrugged it onto her shoulders. Shuffling into the private bathroom connected only to her own room, she began her daily routine. Contrary to the popular rumors that Head Boy and Girl shared a large bathroom, each moderate sized bedroom held its own toilet, bath, and sink. It was only large enough for one person, and you certainly couldn't do laps in the tub, but it was private. After sharing with two mirror hogging girly-girls for six years, Hermione was immensely grateful for peaceful mornings where she could leisurely get ready at her own pace.

Fresh from her shower with her bathrobe on, Hermione put some spells on her hair to try and tame it. Sometimes she didn't know why she bothered, she wasn't particularly skilled at beauty charms. She had studied them of course, had even bribed Parvati and Lavender to tutor her. They were the experts, and their advice had come at a cost; she had to agreed to help them write two of their Potions essays in exchange for help with her appearance for a week. She had mimicked their wand motions exactly and said the spells, but without fail, her charms were always weaker than theirs. She was so frustrated with herself, until she read an article in _Witch Weekly_. It seemed like it had been addressed to her exact problem.

_**Is your magical manicure sloppy?**_

_**Hair-taming charms not up to scratch?**_

_**Are your make-up spells fading halfway through the day?**_

_So many witches are constantly struggling these days with beauty spells that it is practically becoming an epidemic! Why do some witches have no problem with these charms but others find it an uphill battle everyday? With the recent interest of the modern witch in having a career of her own to become self-sufficient, she has lost a lot of interest in attracting and landing herself a suitable husband. In the days of the oppressed woman, all she had to offer a man was her looks. A witch of that day's only chance at a happy marriage was maintaining a beautiful appearance. They were good at beauty spells and for two reasons._

_Firstly, most of the time these witches were man-crazy. They were obsessed with finding a husband and for good reason, since that determined their status and comfort of living. Secondly, they were a bit vain. To be in high society meant you had to be beautiful and immaculate, and women who did not meet those standards were judged harshly. These witches wanted to be the belle of the ball and used their magic to assist them._

_So if you have trouble with your spells, do not take it as an insult to your intelligence. You are probably more career driven than most witches and are neither vain nor desperate for a man. If you still would like to improve your appearance to some degree, potions and Muggle treatments are probably the way to go._

So she wasn't an idiot, she just wasn't vain or boy-crazy either. It also explained why Parvati and Lavender were masters. They were the two most self-absorbed girls she had ever met and were constantly chasing the boy of the month. So she had taken the articles advice and supplemented her charms with Muggle products and hair-care potions as needed. Unfortunately, not many products were strong enough to handle Hermione's hair type and the ones that could were expensive, so she tried to use them sparingly.

Hermione reached for her bottle of face wash when it happened. A large brown dot scurried quickly past her hand and disappeared amongst her toiletries that were neatly arranged along the back of the counter next to the mirror. She shrieked loudly and proceeded to knock down all the bottles onto the ground, some of the glass containers breaking as they met the cold tile floor. Hermione paid no mind to the mess of broken glass and wasted potion as she continued to destroy her bathroom to locate the disgusting arachnid that had taken up residence there. After knocking the last bottle to the floor- Madame Flutoria's Miracle Pore Refiner- Hermione failed to find the spider. She looked down frantically to see where it had disappeared to and screamed bloody murder when she saw the offensive creature resting on the tip of her slipper. She hastily kicked off the shoe, still screaming while it landed in the tub, and fled from the loo into her bedroom. By this time there was a loud hammering on her door letting her know someone _really_ wanted in. She rushed over, one foot bare, and threw open the door to find Malfoy, mid-hammer. She yanked him by the wrist and dragged him into her room, shoving him in the direction of the bathroom. He took one look at the wreckage and turned to her saying,

"Great Circe, Granger! What the hell did you do to your bathroom?" It was then that she realized how childish she had acted. _But in my defense, it had crawled right next to my hand, not even two centimeters away. _She shuddered._ And then it had touched my shoe. The nasty bug had actually infected my slippers. Okay, maybe only one slipper. But it was so early in the morning, it had caught me completely by surprise. That's right, I hadn't been expecting to deal with vermin as I was getting ready for classes._

"Spider." She pointed in the direction of her bath.

"All that just for a little insect?" He stared at her incredulously, unable to believe she could be so easily rattled.

"Kill it? Please? It's in the bathtub." She had fear in her eyes, genuine fear. Of a spider.

"Merlin, anything to get you to stop screaming like that. I thought someone was trying to murder you in here." He strode into the bathroom, being careful of the broken glass, removed his own shoe and,

_**SMACK!**_

He put his shoe back on his foot and picked up her house shoe from the tub. He turned on the faucet and water began to cascade along the bottom of the tub. The broken spider was picked up in the current and swept down the drain and into the pipes of Hogwarts. Malfoy turned the water off and went back into the bedroom where Hermione was looking at him expectantly.

"It's dead." She let out a long sigh and gazed at him, relief on her features.

"Thank you, Malfoy."

"Malfoy Pest Control, at your service ma'am. That'll be be eight sickles." He quirked his mouth into a half smile and she let out a small nervous laugh. He kept his eyes on her for a few seconds afterward until Hermione fidgeted a little. "Next time, try levitating your bottles from the sink instead of knocking them to the ground. Might save you a bit of clean up in the future." _Damn, there I go again, forgetting I'm a witch and can solve simple problems with magic._

"I'll keep that in mind." Her answer sounded stupid, even to her own ears.

"I didn't have you pegged as the kind of girl who was afraid of anything, much less a harmless spider. What happened to Gryffindors being brave?"

"Well I guess Ron's unnatural fear of spiders kinda got to me, too. And then I heard about the Acromantula's in the Forbidden Forest and that just sealed the deal. I almost freaked when Ron's boggart turned into a giant spider back in Lupin's class third year, as hard as I tried to hide it." Her confession made Malfoy's eyebrows raise above his hairline in surprise. It was then that she took in his appearance. It was still early in the morning, but Malfoy was fully dressed in his uniform, without the robes though. Most of the trousers the boys wore in the winter were a gray woolen material, to keep warm, but Malfoy's were sewn of some other fabric, presumably expensive. In fact, all of the pieces of his uniform were tailored and looked to be high quality fabric. _I suppose that's to be expected, considering the owner,_ she thought. She finally took notice of her slipper, which he was patiently holding out for her to take. She accepted it and placed it on her bare foot.

"What are you doing dressed and ready so early in the morning?" He looked down at his appearance and then at her attire.

"What are you doing in your bathrobe so late in the morning?" he retorted. She gave him a look to imply that she wasn't in the mood for playing games. "I guess no one ever told you that you are a terrible morning person."

"Probably just like nobody ever told you it's not polite to be sarcastic at this ungodly hour," she retorted.

"All this after I save you from the big bad spider. I expected more from you Granger. You're supposed to be the kindly Head Girl and I'm the bad ass Head Boy with the nice looking ass. At least that's what the gossip in the halls suggests." She started to laugh at him. She couldn't help it. _What kind of self-respecting bloke would actually brag about his own ass to a girl? It's unfathomable! _Just as she regained her composure, she would look him in the eye and her laughter just came sputtering out again. This went on for a couple minutes until he interrupted.

"Well I _was_ going to give you these," and he summoned a pair of nice looking shoes from across the hall in his open room, "but since you're too busy laughing, I might just return them and get my money back." She was instantly silent. **_Shoes!_** she thought excitedly. They were different from any shoe she had ever owned. They had a rounded toe and discreet heel. Embroidery of small flowers in black thread added a flare to the black satin material that was difficult to notice unless you were really looking for it. It would almost look like a slipper if the wedge heel wasn't there, adding just a few centimeters of height She was in awe. They weren't flashy or gaudy or painful looking. In fact they were just _her_. She couldn't describe the feeling, but she was almost certain that those shoes were meant to be on her feet.

"For me?" she whispered, barely able to contain her excitement.

"Well I thought I would wear them to Hogsmeade next weekend and I want to borrow one of your skirts..." he trailed off and narrowed his eyes at her when he realized she wasn't paying attention. "Of course they're for you. And don't worry about drooling all over them, they have a dirt and water repelling charm as well as a warming charm. As a matter of fact that's why I was up so early; I was charming your shoes."

"I don't know what to say, except thank you. They are beautiful." Her eyes hadn't left the shoes once since he had shown them to her.

"Not a problem. Much better than those other ones you were traipsing about in. I owled about the caviar as well, it should arrive in a few days." This caught her attention and her eyes finally focused on his.

"You didn't tell anyone what I was using it for did you?" She was afraid her secret would leak out and then her plan would be ruined.

"I assure you, no one knows it is for you."

"You're being awfully nice. That's four nice things in two days. Do I need to check you over for brain damage?" She smiled and he scowled.

"Only if I can burn your personal library over there in the corner." He pointed to said library and she chuckled.

"Okay, I concede, you are of sound mind. I'm going to get ready for classes now, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. You know where I am if you spot anymore creepy crawlies." With that he left her alone in the room, the new shoes resting at the foot of her bed.

Hermione left for the Great Hall, the shoes on her feet and a smile on her face. She ate her breakfast with gusto and hummed on her way to N.E.W.T. Potions. Which was of course always first thing in the morning. But it didn't matter, because Snape's sour attitude, not to mention style and hygiene, could not dampen her mood. She waited in the hallway, fifteen minutes early as usual, and began reviewing for Potions. She had re-read her meter-long essay on the ethical use of Veritaserum and had begun to study her notes for the upcoming class when her fellow classmates started to arrive and mull around until Snape came to unlock his room.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry said dully as he leaned against the wall next to her. She looked up from her parchment and gave him a broad cheery smile.

"Oh, hullo, Harry!" She continued to smile. He furrowed his brow in confusion.

"What has you looking so pleased this morning? I can never manage a happy thought just prior to Potions with Snape and here you are looking like you finally managed to read every book in the library. Oh, Hermione! You didn't, did you?" He looked truly concerned that she finally "knew everything."

"Of course I haven't, Harry! I just had a breakthrough last night on a potion I've been having trouble with and my excitement hasn't quite worn off yet." She didn't want to tell him about Malfoy being nice to her, that wouldn't make him as cheerful as it had her. And he knew nothing of the Willoward Elixir. No one did except Malfoy. She trusted Harry, of course she did, but if her plan for the potion was to work, no one in the Order could know about it. And that included Harry and Ron.

"What potion? Why didn't you ask me for help?"

"Oh I was just practicing for the N.E.W.T.s and wanted to be able to do it myself," was her hasty explanation. He seemed to accept it, so she continued to read her notes.

In class, Hermione brewed the assigned potion without incidence. In fact, her entire day continued in the same fashion, nothing out of the ordinary, at least by Hogwarts standards. She finished her homework that was due on Monday in the evening after dinner. She felt a bit uneasy since she had left it off until Thursday, but she had been busy with her potion in the Room of Requirement yesterday. She had agreed to pick up a Hufflepuff prefect's rounds that night when he had offered to relieve her of her duties on Sunday. She hated having rounds Sunday night because they always left her feeling exhausted the next morning when everyone else was rested from the weekend.

At two in the morning Hermione slowly made her way back to the Head's quarters. Her eyes were tired and she felt cold from the draftiness of the halls. She gave the password to the flying quidditch player (he scowled at her) and made her way to her bedroom where she promptly changed into her nightclothes, set her wand alarm, and drifted to sleep.

A/N: I only just realized while writing this that Rowling uses feet in her US version of the book, when talking about essays. That bothers me a bit since they're in England, so I'll be using metric. If I slip up anywhere please point it out to me, sometimes it's an unconscious mistake, since I'm American.


	5. Revelations Aplenty

**Revelations Aplenty**

Friday classes passed without incidence. Hermione weaved her way out of the Great Hall after dinner with the intention of going to the Room of Requirement for the evening. She made her excuses to Harry and Ron, they wouldn't bother her if they thought she was in the library working on homework. Tonight Hermione had no plan in mind, she just wanted to brew. She found it relaxing to watch the bubbles rise on a developing potion and to consider how each ingredient affected the product. The steps were clear in Potions, you had to follow a particular set of instructions in sequential order to get the final outcome. It was structured and orderly, the same way she liked her life to be. If you did the process correctly, you were always led to the right result and were never surprised by your finished potion. It made sense. Maybe she would read a Potions theory book while she was up there. It wouldn't be a waste of time. She might even be able to learn something to talk to Malfoy about. Hermione could tell he had her beat when it came to the subject. She wanted to rise up to his level.

Ever since they had talked about a preschool for all magical children, Malfoy had been in the back of her mind at all times. If two people such as they could get along, why couldn't the rest of the wizarding world? She wanted to start her preschool project right away, but the matter of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was more urgent. Which is why she needed the Willoward plan to go off without a hitch.

Hermione arrived at the Room of Requirement and paced before the entrance, thinking about the potions room she needed once more. When she opened the door and slipped inside, she found the room empty. She went to the work station she had claimed as her own and lit a fire under the cauldron. Deciding to brew a simple hair potion since she had broken her stock Thursday morning with the spider, she began to collect and prepare her ingredients. In no time, she had the potion quietly simmering and decided to read while she waited for it to cure. She wandered over to the bookcase that filled one entire wall, floor to ceiling, and perused the titles. Hermione finally settled on _Elementary Potions Theory_ by Vladimir Chernikov and made herself comfortable in a cushioned armchair. She curled up her legs under her body and began to immerse herself in the world of potions. She wasn't aware of the door opening soon after, or who strolled in. She finally took notice of the intruder when a shadow fell across her page. She looked up quickly and found Malfoy standing over her reading the title of the book she held in her lap.

"That was the first book I picked up as well."

"Pardon?" Hermione was confused and slightly annoyed with Malfoy for disturbing her.

"In here. When I first came to the Room of Requirement with the intention of studying potions, that was the first book I picked up to read. He had intriguing notions, but his wording is a bit pretentious." He grabbed a book off the top shelf and handed it down to Hermione. "Try this one, I found it a lot more helpful, as far as theory goes." Hermione just stared at him, gaping like a fish. She couldn't believe what he had just said. She had been struggling with a few of the passages, trying to decipher what the author meant. And Malfoy just admitted to having the same problem. Not to mention the same reading material preferences. Hermione accepted the large tome he was holding out for her and stuffed it in her bag without looking at the title. Curiosity was creeping up on her and she found herself itching to know more about Malfoy's interest in potionmaking.

"How long have you been using this room?" He considered her briefly before answering.

"Ever since I got an Exceeds Expectations O.W.L. in Potions."

"You _did_?" Her eyebrows had risen above the edge of her bangs. Malfoy crossed his arms and he narrowed his eyes as he looked down upon Hermione.

"Yes, Granger, I did. Go ahead and throw that in my face now," he snapped back at her. She instantly wiped the look of disbelief off of her face and replaced it with a hardened glare. She stood and began to defend her ground.

"That's not what I meant. You of all people should know I don't exploit the weaknesses of others to my own advantage. I'm not cruel or manipulative like that." Her expression was icy.

"I suppose that's what you think of me." He put on a high and mocking tone. "Cruel and manipulative Malfoy, whose sole purpose in life is to make yours hell." Hermione's face colored in anger.

"You need to stop putting words in my mouth. If that's what I thought of you, I would tell you. I'm not going to sugarcoat the way you've treated me in the past, but I don't believe your that same person anymore. I refuse to pity you Malfoy, because you're better than that. Poor you, your dad's in Azkaban. From the way you talked about him earlier, you never liked him anyways so what's the big deal? Just move on with your life."

"So now you think you know everything about me, do you? That it's as simple as that. I confess a few things to you, like I don't hate muggle-born children and I didn't get an Outstanding O.W.L. in Potions and now we're bosom buddies. Well let me enlighten you. I may not hate _all_ muggle-borns, but that sure as hell doesn't mean I like _you_. You're nosy, infuriating, and have a terrible sense of fashion. The day we become friends is the day Snape awards points to Gryffindor in his class. And guess what, I haven't changed, and I don't plan to. So now that we've set the record straight, I'll thank you kindly if you keep your big mouth shut and leave now." His eyes were furious. She narrowed her own and braced herself before she responded.

"No." His fists clenched at his sides. "You've insulted and demoralized me, but we had an arrangement. You owe me caviar and I won't be shunted away until you deliver."

"How about I just tell Professor Snape you plan to dose him with Willoward Elixir and we can forget the whole deal." His voice was dangerously quiet and threatening. She didn't know if he was bluffing or not, but she didn't want to risk exposing her plan to him.

"That's a load of dung and you know it, Malfoy. You don't know a damn thing about the person it's for."

"I know more than you think, Granger. I know what you're plan-" He paused mid-sentence and sniffed the air, his eyes scanning the room. "Is that..." another sniff. "Does that smell like..." a third sniff and he glared at her. "Are you burning _hair_ in here, Granger?"

"The potion!" She rushed toward the cauldron, already knowing it would be ruined when she got there. But before she could run past Malfoy, he caught her by the arm and yanked her back forcefully.

"Just get out." His grip on her upper arm was painful. He bent down and grabbed her heavy bag by the strap, placing it on her shoulder before dragging her toward the exit. He wrenched open the door and ungracefully shoved her out into the seventh floor hallway. She let out a yelp when she stumbled and struggled to regain her balance. When she looked up again she only caught a glimpse of Malfoy, slamming the door. She brushed the loose strands of hair from her face, the movement of her arm causing her enormous bag to slip off her shoulder. It landed on the hall floor with a resounding thud. To her right, the dancing trolls that inhabited the nearby tapestry began chuckling merrily and pointing at her. A couple of them began to reenact her being thrown out and almost falling.

"Do shut up," she told them with a withering glare she would rather have given to Malfoy. The trolls just laughed harder, their ugly and vacant faces split wide open at the mouth, one of them was even doubled over with mirth.

Hermione let out an impatient growl and kicked the stone wall where the door to the Room of Requirement vanished. She cursed under her breath at the pain that shot up her big toe. She grabbed her foot and hopped around a few times, muttering curses to the trolls and their creator. She put her foot back on the ground and she looked down at her feet. She wearing the shoes Malfoy had bought her.

"Damn Malfoy with his damn shoes and stupid caviar," she mumbled to herself and bent down to pick up the strap of her bag. She noticed a book peeking out that she didn't remember getting from the library. It was a dull yellow hardcover and as thick as a dictionary. She slowly pried it from her half open bag and turned it over to read the title:

_Puzzled by Potions?_

_A beginner's guide to the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking by Dennison Bramateis_

Hermione stared at the cover for a moment, befuddled. _Where have I heard that tagline before? It sounds so familiar... _Then it hit her like a ton of bricks, _Snape!_ _So he likes to steal quotes from books, eh? Pompous git. _Hermione began walking toward the library. Malfoy had kicked her out and even though she could just go back in by pacing in front of the room, the thought of facing _him_ again and continuing their row was an unpleasant one. _How much does he know?_ She didn't even want to consider the possibility that her secret was no longer secure. If he really did know about her plan and told Professor Snape... it would ruin all the hard work and research she had done for the past several months. Hermione tossed her bag next to a table at the library, plopped down into her chair and sighed heavily. She hadn't been in this part of the library for over a week, being too busy with brewing the Willoward Elixir in the Room of Requirement. It had been over in the little-used Restricted Section where she had had her breakthrough.

When she found the Willoward Elixir a good month ago in _Moste Potente Potions_ (the very same book that had yielded the Polyjuice Potion in her second year), she almost yelled with triumph. The withering look Madame Pince threw in her direction made her settle for a broad grin instead. She did not want to get kicked out of the library... again. The potion had been exactly what she was hunting for.

_Willoward Elixir_

_Trust in a bottle. The drinker will seem extremely trustworthy to a target audience. Brewing time: 30 minutes. Traceability: 5 (cannot be detected post-ingestion) _

Hermione had begun writing her progress in a notebook charmed so that only she could read its contents. She wanted the whole plan to be perfected so she could put it into action over Christmas break at Order Headquarters. Hermione's notebook, cleverly disguised as a S.P.E.W. plan of action on the cover, read as follows:

**-Harry, Ron, and I were inducted into the Order. We've been looking forward to it all summer, and we were finally allowed to sit in at a meeting. Apparently no headway is being made with Professor Snape as a spy for our side. He's says Voldemort doesn't trust him enough.**

**-I want to make Professor Snape more appealing as a confidant to the Dark Lord. But how?**

**-At the last Order meeting before school, I suggested to Professor Snape that he take a common Trust Draught or have Professor Dumbledore cast a charm, but he bit my head off. Said the Dark Lord has powers I know nothing of and should just mind my own business. Me! A full-fledged Order member! Git.**

**-Harry reminded me of the Dark Lord's great skill in Legilimency. Of course Voldemort is going to search the minds of all people he reveals his secrets to, Trust Potion or not, in order to ascertain their intentions. And Snape apparently doesn't believe his Occulmency skill would be enough to keep the Dark Lord from searching his mind if he thought foul play was afoot. Maybe I could charm Professor Snape or slip him something without his knowledge? Then he wouldn't know and neither would the Dark Lord! I'll look up something right now!**

**-Trust Charms are highly complex to perform if done non-verbally. And you can't tune them to target specific people. A Trust Potion is probably my best bet. But which one? I'll get Professor Flitwick to write me a note to look in the Restricted Section.**

**-I found it! Powerful enough and it doesn't take long to brew. _And_ I can make it work only on the Dark Lord so Snape doesn't get suspicious when everyone in sight tries to tell him their deepest, darkest secrets. I just need the Dark Lord's blood. Too bad he doesn't leave that lying around now, does he? I'll ask Harry about the blood of the Dark Lord, he might know something.**

**-Haven't asked about the blood yet, but I brewed a sample batch in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. It smells horrible and tastes even worse. Snape will detect it in an instant. This is getting even more complicated.**

**-Breakthrough! When I brought up the blood of the Dark Lord (under the guise of possible ways to defeat him) Harry reminded Ron and I that they shared the same blood, part of the resurrection that happened at the end of fourth year. I can use Harry's blood for the potion and it _should_ work the same. I'll get some the next time he lands himself in the Hospital Wing after a Quidditch game. I would just ask him, but the less everyone knows about what I'm doing, the less likely Snape will catch on.**

**-Page 427 of _Advanced Potionmaking_ states that an additive of some sort can be mixed with a potion in the final stages to combat negative side effects. However what should be added varies with each potion, so that means I'm stuck trying to find one on my own. I need to have this done by Christmas, as I'm sure Snape will be joining us prior to his private meeting with the Dark Lord over the holiday where he is supposed to give him information about our side. The tables will certainly be turned when it's the Dark Lord revealing his own secrets!**

**-I went to the Room of Requirement where I would have access to some of the more rare ingredients that I don't have a large stock of. Malfoy was there, but I wasn't going to let that stop me, the potion is more important. After a couple hours of struggling, Malfoy actually helped me by telling me what to add: caviar! And he offered to acquire some for me. I am ahead of schedule thanks to him! **

It was a useful notebook and allowed Hermione to keep on schedule. Well ahead of schedule since Malfoy helped her. _Ugh, Malfoy._ Her thoughts had come full circle, back to the same arrogant prick. Frustrated, she pulled out the yellow book he had given her and opened it up to the "Message from the Author" on the second page.

_Dearest Reader,_

_When I got the idea for writing this novel, I wanted to make each and every wizard (or witch) capable and competent in the field of potionmaking. Such common mistakes that one makes every day are often related to each other and are symptoms of a bigger problem. That is why the first portion of this text is a survey to identify your most common error(s) and emotions when making potions. Please complete the survey which will advise you what portion of the text to read._

_Sincerely,_

_D. Bramateis_

_Order of Merlin Second Class_

_Master of Potions at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (1924-1958)_

Hermione quickly flipped forward a couple pages to the survey. The book instructed her to mark her answers in the book itself (she shuddered slightly) which would tally her score and generate a response. Hermione dug around in her bag and soon extracted a quill and a bottle of purple ink. She settled herself in and began taking the survey.

Fifteen minutes later Hermione was almost finished. Just one question remained:

_When brewing potions, you most often feel:_

_A. Anxious_

_B. Angered_

_C. Happy_

_D. Nauseous_

_E. Tranquil_

Hermione was stuck. There was no word to describe how she felt while brewing. She was free, floating, and uninhibited. It relaxed her, that much was sure, but she also felt elated. Brewing brought her a unique joy that could only be felt as she watched tendrils of steam rise and curl through the air. She would watch as diminutive bubbles formed at the base of the cauldron and slowly got bigger and bigger until they swam to the surface and popped releasing their vapors. But back to the question at hand. Tranquil, or happy?

She thought back to earlier this evening. She wanted to escape all the pressure of her academics and take a break to relax. So she turned to potions. Hermione put an 'X' in the box next to 'E. Tranquil' and signed her name as indicated at the bottom of the page. Immediately, the words on the page swirled and appeared to be draining down into the center of the page. When all her answers had been sucked into the page, a neat script began to appear in the center, as if an invisible hand were writing the message.

_Hermione Jane Granger, your potions style is:_

The writing paused for a moment, as if thinking. Then it began again, in the same tidy hand as before.

_Hermione Jane Granger, your potions style is:_

_Distracted._

_Turn to page 83 for more information about your style._

She flipped forward until she located the appropriate page.

_Distracted:_

_You have all the talent needed to brew perfect potions. And you do... most of the time. You also enjoy making your potions, and try to find release from your worries through brewing. This can be a double-edged sword, Hermione. A healthy dose of fear can improve a brewer's focus and keep them from inadvertently ruining their own work, but too much fear will impair their judgment and make them a nervous wreck. While you work, make sure you eliminate distractions from people and objects around you. And never, _ever _leave a potion unattended, for that is a sure-fire way to end up in the Grievous Injury Ward of St. Mungo's. To improve your focus while brewing, try to find your mental core. Many of the Wizarding World's best Potions Masters have been observed while they brewed and about 80 of them were in a trance-like state, focusing all their attention into their cauldrons and blocking everything else. Most of the remaining 20 were Ministry Aurors, trained to brew on the field in the midst of battle and to split their attention between their potion and the events around them. For tips on focusing yourself, please reference _From the Cauldron's Mouth: Brewing Tips from a Master _by Gerald Sperner._

Hermione read the passage three times through. The book had pointed out her worst character flaw and applied it to potions. If she did what this book said, and tried to find her own "trance-like state" she would be able to perfect her technique. _I wonder what the book told Malfoy..._ The thought just floated through her mind and she was unable to banish it. It was obvious that Malfoy's improvement in Potions class was directly related to the book that sat in front of her. And she could have the same results. _Hell, even Neville could have the same results with a book like this._

Maybe she could let Neville take the survey, too. She glanced down at the dull yellow cover and the worn corners from years, decades possibly, of mishandling. A face swam into the forefront of her mind. Grey, accusing eyes and a frown of disapproval framed by thin blond hair. Malfoy wouldn't want her to share the book with the whole school. He had entrusted it to her, and probably assumed only she would know of its existence. As caustic and selfish as he had been earlier, Hermione didn't feel right showing the book to anyone else, even Harry or Ron, when it had been given to her in good faith.

Well at least she herself could benefit from the book. _I wonder what the book said about Malfoy. _Like he would ever confide in her again. '_You think you know me?' _The accusing tone his voice had held was echoing in her mind. He had told her things about himself and she had talked about it like she really knew him. She had behaved just like those other silly, stupid girls that fancied themselves his friend. Hermione had lectured him on his relationship with his father, how would that make anyone feel? It wasn't her place, and she could forgive his reaction. If only he might forgive her thoughtlessness.

* * *

A/N: I revised this chapter because I didn't like the direction she was going. It was a bit lame and I had no idea what do do with it. So now this is the new and improved chapter 5. 


	6. Alternate Perspective

A/N: Here's a change in POV, since I not only wrote myself into a corner, but I also got distracted with other things for a couple years (Scratch that, two and a half years). I can't believe it's been that long, wow. Let's see how this goes.

**Alternate Perspective**

Draco Malfoy's week was going about as poorly as possible. It seemed the karmic fates wanted to punish him for arguing with Hermione. Ever since he had yelled and literally shoved her out of the Room of Requirement, not only had he ruined every potion he had laid his hands on, he had also melted his first cauldron in Snape's class. He didn't lose House points since he was the professor's favourite, but he was rightfully embarrassed while the entire dungeon gawked as he cleaned it up.

But it was difficult to focus when classes were the only time he even got a glimpse of Hermione. She had purposely altered her schedule and paths through the castle after they fought. She had switched with a Hufflepuff prefect on the two nights she had had rounds with him and she never came to the Great Hall when he was there at meals. If she didn't show up to classes he might have thought she had turned into a Hogwarts ghost, what with the way she seemed to walk through walls when she heard him coming in their common room.

Her caviar had arrived days ago, but she seemed uninterested in seeking him out to retrieve it. He considered owling it to her as a peace offering, but if she didn't forgive him then he was out of bargaining chips. If only she would come back to the Room of Requirement, then they could have a nice long chat and put it behind them. Until then he was facing bad hair days, ruined potions, and a litany of other minor annoyances.

Saturday arrived and with it a new resolve for Malfoy. Since Hermione would not voluntarily seek him out, he was going to employ a little of the famous Slytherin sneakiness for the Hogsmeade outing. Hopefully when the day was out, not only would she have forgiven him, she would have forgotten why they had even fought in the first place.

Hermione walked briskly in the winter wind toward Hogsmeade, her hair flying out of its bun. Malfoy, hot on her heels, had taken to casting a disillusionment charm on himself and hiding in a dark corner of his own common room early in the morning to follow her when she left. He hung back as far as he could without losing sight of her, but when she got into the crowded square, he had to remove the disillusionment charm and keep a little closer. So intent on her destination, he doubted if she would see a bloodthirsty troll behind her. She rushed straight through the square and down the high street, abruptly turning left near the end. She made a couple more turns and he almost lost her before he saw the end of her long cloak whipping into a shop.

**Hogsmeade Apothecary**

Specializing in rare potions ingredients

There wasn't a bell over the door so he decided to follow her in and left the hood on his cloak up. She was busy scanning the beetle eyes and other 'by-the-scoop' items. She started when the owner crept up next to her and asked in a raspy voice,

"Anything in particular you're looking for?"

"Do you carry," she paused, "edible potions ingredients?"

"Edible? I'm not sure I follow. Could you be more specific?" He fixed her with a suspicious gaze. Sometimes troublemakers would visit his shop and try to distract him so they could steal the more expensive items. She didn't look like a bad kid, but how was he to know who the bad ones were anymore? He hardened his stare.

"Well, I guess I can. I need caviar." She looked nervous. He was really glaring at her now and she didn't know if she risked her secret by asking for caviar. Is it widely known that caviar masks bad tasting potions? More importantly, does the shopkeeper know?

"Caviar?"

"You know, like, fish eggs? The really expensive kind?"

The shopkeeper turned angry. He grabbed his sweeping broom from the wall and thrust the bristly end at Hermione.

"Out!" he barked. "No one steals from my shop while I'm sober!" He continued hitting Hermione with the broom and shouting for her to leave. She scrambled to run out of the shop, her shoes slipping on the dirty floor. Eventually, she burst out of the shop door and out into the narrow alleyway, slamming into the opposite wall at full speed. The shopkeeper came to the door and shook his broom at her some more.

"And stay out!" He turned around to re-enter his shop, muttering. "Good-for-nothing kids trying to rob me of my stock…"

Hermione just stood out in the cold leaning against the alley wall, trying to catch her breath and calm her racing heart, puzzling over what the shopkeeper had muttered.

After a minute or so, she gathered herself and headed back for the high street. She was almost to the end when she heard the apothecary door re-open and someone come out. She braced herself for more shouting and turned around to explain herself.

"Look, sir, I'm not trying to steal from you. Honest. And look, I'm leav-" She looked at the boy who had just lowered his hood.

"Malfoy? Are you stalking me?"

"Not at all, I was just looking for some pumpkin juice in the apothecary when you came in." He began to approach her.

"Huh?" she said intelligently. Was he mocking her with that pumpkin juice comment?

"Why would you ask for caviar in an apothecary? It's not an ingredient for any potion I've ever heard of."

"Well I wasn't sure where else to go. And I didn't think he would kick me out just for asking."

"Well that's old Almerius for you. He doesn't ever quite do what you expect."

"But accusing me of stealing from him?"

"Well that's not exactly your fault. He's gotten a little paranoid over the past couple of years."

"Why?" At this, Malfoy looked a little uncomfortable and rubbed the back of his neck while looking down.

"Well back in 5th and 6th year, a few of us Slytherins would go in to Almerius' shop and ask for weird or non-existent items, then convince him to go into the storage room out back to look while we would take some of the more rare items and bolt. I'm afraid he finally caught on."

Hermione just stood rooted to the spot, staring in shock.

"But… but… but you're RICH!" she finally blurted out. Malfoy smirked.

"So?"

"So you could afford those ingredients! Why would you steal?" She seemed genuinely upset.

"We were bored. And it's not like we actually needed the ingredients, we usually just gave them out to our housemates in exchange for alcohol or other favors."

"Other favors? Ew!" Hermione pulled a face. _Really,_ Malfoy thought to himself, _as if I would need to trade goods for sex. I should teach her a lesson._

"Honestly, Granger. You Gryffindors must be pretty hard up for Potions ingredients. But if I want sex from a girl, I wouldn't need to bribe her with a large bottle of Acromantula venom to get it."

"I… that's… that's not what I meant!" She was blushing and stammering. _Perfect._

"Please," he snorted, "As I that wasn't _exactly_ what you were thinking. Admit it."

She blushed further and looked down at the cobblestone. He smirked and began to invade her personal space, stepping closer. She looked up suddenly, and backed against the wall to restore boundaries.

"Well I have this tin of caviar here," and he produced the tin from his robes. "What are you willing to do for it?"

"Excuse me?" she said, clearly offended. He took another step closer.

"You seemed desperate for caviar. How desperate are you exactly?" He had a predatory look in his eye.

"Not desperate at all." she replied, and snatched the tin from his hand and began walking up the alley to the crowded high street.

"I think I deserve something for my efforts!" he called out after her. She whirled around and glared at him.

"You already got it, don't you remember? You wanted to burn my shoes and we did." She held up the tin. "And this. You owed this to me." _Shit, she was right! How could he have forgotten?_

"Fine. But I also loaned you my favorite Potions book. What do I get for that?"

"The satisfaction of a doing a good deed?" _Cheeky witch._

"How about you stop avoiding me and start coming back to the Room of Requirement?" She considered him a moment, then gave a brief nod. She began walking away once more.

"Wait! Are we friends?"

She shrugged. "Sure, if you want to be."

"Then as your friend, you should tell me where you're going."

"Where else? The Room of Requirement. We've got work to do. Friend."

**Somewhere in the Castle**

Snape was prowling the halls in a foul mood and looking for any reason to take points off of the other Houses and award them to his own. In his classes yesterday, he had gotten eight children crying and sniveling, five melted cauldrons—one of which he suspected would be there until the end of time—and one first year Hufflepuff who wet himself in fear. Disgusting children.

If Severus Snape could guarantee one thing, it was that no child of his would have ever been that repulsive, weak, or scared. If Severus Snape had ever had any children of his own, they would have been smarter, stronger, and vastly superior to any other scum that Hogwarts had ever seen.

Lucky for all of these dunderheads, Severus Snape had never reproduced. But the continual assault on his nerves was tiresome. And the Public Urinater (Severus still hadn't learned the boy's name after almost three months of teaching him) was the straw that broke the hippogriff's back. Hence the billowing robes down the hallway and the more-foul-than-usual temper.

"Geoffries!" he barked. "Your hair is too spiky. Five points from Gryffindor!" As he continued down the hall, Snape smiled a little. On the inside, of course.

"Patil! You're wearing too much makeup. You look like a trollop! Five points from Ravenclaw!" He smiled a little more.

"Bertram! Wipe that stupid look off your face, five points from Hufflepuff!" He was almost giddy from the thrill. And who could say he was being unfair? He had just taken equal amounts of points from each House. And finally, a Slytherin crossed his path! One of the thicker first years, but he was Slytherin just the same.

"Ahh, Mr. Fairbanks!" Sanpe bent over to look him in the face better. "I heard you flew very well in Madam Hooch's latest flying lesson. That is an improvement, is it not?" Fairbanks nodded mutely.

"Wonderful! Ten points to Slytherin, then, for your extra effort! And another student taught you some of the finer points, yes?" Another silent nod.

"Well then, tell me who that Slytherin is, so that I may award them points for their generosity!"

"It wasn't a Slytherin, sir."

"What?"

"It wasn't a Sly-"

"I heard you the first time, Mr. Fairbanks!" Severus snapped. "Who was it then?" _Not a Gryffindor, please, anyone but a Gryffindor. Merlin, please not a Gryffindor._

"It was Phillip Jenkins," he said, and pointed to the third year standing next to him. Snape's eyes followed the chubby eleven-year-old finger to the Jenkins in question, the greasy-haired professor still bent at the waist in front of Fairbanks. A Gryffindor. _Shit!_

"Mr. Jenkins." Snape stood up fully and gave him the iciest glare possible, mumbled, then continued on his rampage down the hallway. "Sodding Gryffindors…"

Down below in the entrance hall, two single rubies trickled down the giant hourglass.

A/N: Well I hope this chapter makes up for my absence, though probably not. I just finished finals (by the way, engineering is hard, in case you were wondering), so I have a week to sit around and write. This means another chapter will probably be coming your way. Please don't forget to review!


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